


Things Unknown

by saiditallbefore



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Family, Gen, Rey Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/pseuds/saiditallbefore
Summary: In the end, Rey went with Captain Solo.She took the lightsaber with her, though.  General Organa didn’t ask for it, and Rey didn’t offer.





	Things Unknown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



> This is what happens when I fall in love with ALL OF YOUR PROMPTS and try to write several of them in one story. I hope you like it!

In the end, Rey went with Captain Solo. (He told her to call him Han.) She felt a small pang of regret— General Organa had wanted her to go after Luke Skywalker— but Han promised they’d be back to help the Resistance periodically, bringing them weapons and supplies and other things they might need.

She took the lightsaber with her, though. General Organa didn’t ask for it, and Rey didn’t offer.

* * *

“I got us a job on the Outer Rim, thanks to an old pal of mine,” Han announced abruptly. 

Chewie growled something derogatory about idiots with death wishes and stormed to another part of the ship. 

“What’s Chewie so worried about?” Rey asked, trying to sound casual. She’s glad they had a destination now.

“Little bit of a dust-up some years back. Misunderstanding, really. Owed a guy money, didn’t pay it as fast as he wanted it, guy wound up dead.” Han shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem for us.”

Rey sighed. Really, Chewie might have had a point about the death wish. For a man who’d had his entire arm sliced off— by his son— and had it replaced with a cybernetic prosthetic, Han was a bit too cavalier about these things.

* * *

Their destination— an Outer Rim planet called Tatooine-- looked disappointingly like Jakku. Upon landing, the only real difference Rey could see was that this planet had two suns, not one, and they were in a town bigger than any settlement Unkar Plutt could ever dream of running.

“Don’t tell Her Highness about this,” Han said, as he strapped on his blaster. Rey wasn’t entirely sure when he thought she would be talking to General Organa, but she agreed anyway.

Chewie checked that his ammo belt was full, then growled at Rey, telling her to stay put.

“What? But I can help!” Rey exclaimed.

Chewie growled threateningly at her. She might have taken her threats more seriously when she’d first met him, but now she had a hard time believing he was going to tear her arms off.

“Chewie’s right,” Han said. “This one might get a little— well, I don’t know if we’ll be getting the warmest welcome.”

“I can look after myself,” Rey protested.

“Next time,” Han promised. “This time? Stay with the ship.”

Fuming, Rey collapsed onto the nearest seat. Chewie patted her on the head as he and Han headed out into the hot desert air.

But it was hard to feel like she’d been mistreated when she got plenty of food every day, without Han even checking to see if she’d done her portion of the work, when she got to take turns flying the _Falcon_ , when Chewie and Han always thanked her for the work she did to help keep the ship in repair.

She paced the ship, trying to make herself work. But something didn’t feel quite right. It was like a tickle in the back of her head, a sensation that trouble was coming. She’d felt something like this before, whenever someone back on Jakku had tried to steal her day’s haul. But ever since Starkiller Base, that sensation was— it was like it was awake. Like it was _more_ , somehow.

Rey grabbed her lightsaber. If something was wrong, she was going to be prepared. And if something was going wrong, it was almost certainly happening wherever Han and Chewie were.

Without a second thought, she ran out the door of the _Millenium Falcon_ , following the odd feeling down the dusty street and into a warehouse populated by ancient droids in various states of disrepair. As she dashed into the warehouse, she was greeted by the sound and sight of blasterfire. She unsheathed her lightsaber, and ran straight toward the trouble.

She deflected a handful of blaster bolts back toward the attackers as she ran to Han and Chewie. 

“What happened?” she demanded as she ducked under a bolt and slid into Han and Chewie’s hiding place behind a pile of crates.

“You were supposed to stay with the ship!” Han stood and fired off a couple of shots, then ducked back behind the crates.

“Then who would get you out of trouble?” Rey asked. 

Chewie laughed: a deep, rumbly growl. He fired off a couple shots with his bowcaster, then asked Rey the important question: what now?

Rey hadn’t really bothered to come up with a plan. Besides, she was much better at just making things up as she went along. So instead of answering, she leaped over the crates and back toward the attackers. She deflected several shots back at the shooters, and charged toward them, her lightsaber outstretched. Han and Chewie were behind her, laying down cover fire for her. 

One of the blaster bolts got past her guard, and grazed her in the side. Rey staggered, but didn’t stop. She cut down one of the attackers where he stood, and when the others turned their full attention to her, they were shot by Han and Chewie.

With the attackers gone, Rey noticed the pain in her side for the first time. She looked down, at the gash where the blaster bolt had hit her. 

Much later, Han would joke that she’d fainted at the sight of the wound. The truth was, she’d suddenly felt weak, and, just as everything had gone black, she’d felt a pair of strong, furry arms catch her.

* * *

Rey woke in her bunk on the _Falcon_. An unfamiliar meddroid was positioned by her side. As soon as she moved, it began chastising her in binary, telling her to stay still and wait to be examined.

She ignored it, and marched out of the room and toward the cockpit, ignoring the pain in her side all the while. Han was leaned back in his pilot’s seat, apparently napping. Chewie was nowhere to be seen, but Rey guessed that he was doing a few more repairs or modifications somewhere else in the ship.

Rey stepped on a squeaky floor panel, and Han woke up, one hand on his blaster. He jumped out of his seat and hurried toward Rey.

“What are you doing up?” he asked.

“What happened?” Rey asked.

“Sit down, at least,” Han said, ushering Rey toward the co-pilot’s seat. 

“I’m fine,” Rey said, but she sat down anyway, wincing at the pain that radiated from her side. She was starting to think something awful must have happened— Han wasn’t usually one to worry and fret like this. “What’s going on?”

“You were shot,” Han said. Rey fought the urge to roll her eyes; she _knew_ that. “I picked up an old meddroid from a junk shop. I’m just glad the thing held together well enough to patch you up— we’re low on medical supplies right now.”

“Did we get the cargo?” Rey asked.

“The— right. The cargo. Yeah, we got it.” Han sighed, and Rey got the impression he still wasn’t telling her something, but she wasn’t feeling up to pressing the issue any further.

Something must have shown in her face, because suddenly, Han was at her side. “You should be in bed,” he said.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Rey insisted, but Han ignored her. He put an arm around her and hauled her to her feet. She leaned on him as he led her back to her bunk, where the meddroid fussed at her as she fell fast asleep.

* * *

Han remained unusually solicitous for the next few days, bringing Rey food, asking how she was doing, and making a fuss every time she wanted to get out of bed and _do something_.

It was a little bit nice to be fussed over, but there was such a thing as too much. 

Finally, Rey decided she’d had enough. She waited until a time when Han was likely to be asleep, and crept out of her room, once again ignoring the meddroid’s protests.

As she’d guessed, Han was asleep, but Chewbacca was at the controls, cleaning his bowcaster. He didn’t turn to look at Rey until she’d sat down in the co-pilot’s seat.

“Is it just me, or has Han been acting strange since I got hurt?” she asked.

Quietly and hesitantly (for a Wookiee), Chewie answered that yes, Han had been acting a little bit strange, but he was just in a mood.

Rey furrowed her brow. “What kind of mood? Is he going to do this every time something happens on a job?”

Maybe, Chewie hedged. It was complicated.

“Well, _un_ -complicate it.” Rey crossed her arms. Maybe she was being petty, but she didn’t like being left in the dark like this.

Chewie seemed to ignore her. He looked over the control panels— all the ones Rey could see had normal readings, at least for the _Falcon_ — and double-checked their course, which had been entered into the computer days ago and hadn’t changed since.

Finally, he heaved a sigh and looked straight at Rey again. This wasn’t any of his business, he explained. She needed to talk to Han.

With that spectacularly unhelpful piece of advice, Rey walked to Han’s bunkroom, ignoring the twinge in her side her injury was still giving her. She sat down in the hallway, right outside his door.

When he woke up, they were going to talk.

* * *

It was several hours of standard time before Han exited his room. Rey had almost fell asleep several times, but she willed herself to stay awake. 

When he finally stepped into the hallway, Rey stood. “What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded.

Han raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m not telling you a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” Rey insisted. “You’ve been acting strange.”

Han dragged a hand down his face. “I’m not talking about this in the hallway.” He moved to step around Rey, but she was quicker. 

“I want to know _now_.” Rey thought she might be yelling a little, but she couldn’t make herself feel too bad about it.

Apparently accepting his situation, Han crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall. “The meddroid did a blood test on you, as part of the treatment.”

Rey nodded, unsure of where this was going. Blood tests were part of a meddroid’s protocol for new patients.

“And it matched the one I have stored in the ship’s data.”

Rey stared at Han, uncomprehending.

“I figure it must have been— Leia and I were on a break, and there was this woman I met on a job— I didn’t—” Han took a shaky breath. “If I’d known you were out there, I would have found you.”

Realization dawned on Rey. “You’re my—” She can’t make herself say the word “father.” After all the time spent waiting on Jakku, Han Solo was her—

She turned and ran.

* * *

The _Millenium Falcon_ was filled with hiding places. That didn’t help when the person you were hiding from knew every nook and cranny of the ship better than the back of his own hand. So it didn’t take long for Han come looking for Rey down in the cargo hold.

She was perched on a crate, looking into the darkness and thinking. Or rather, trying not to think.

Han sat down next to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m shit at this.”

Rey looked at him, willing him to go on, but not trusting her own voice enough to speak up. 

“I let my son fall to the Dark Side and set out to destroy everything his mother and I ever worked for. And I apparently let my daughter get abandoned in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah,” Rey said. On another day, she’d argue that Kylo Ren made his own choices. On another day, she might even argue that Han had nothing to do with her getting left on Jakku, since he didn’t even know she existed. But those arguments can wait. Instead she said, “Does this mean you’re going to make a fuss every time I get shot?”

Han laughed.


End file.
